


Don't close your eyes on me

by kasahara



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasahara/pseuds/kasahara
Summary: “No sun in my eyeNo morning runner’s highNo birds, no butterfliesIf you’re not next to me”





	1. Chapter 1

**7 years ago**

 

Life is full of cycles that we just can’t break out from. Here comes another Monday.

Back in high school, I used to think that I had the whole world to conquer. I thought all I had to do was leave school and then I’d magically turn into a popular nice college guy. Obviously, that didn't happen. While I check my phone to make sure the alarm is going to sound and wake me up tomorrow, I think about how wrong I was to ever imagine my life could change with a simple thing like going to college.

I used to be a good student, you know. I was so devoted to music and rap that I felt nothing else would matter as long as those remained with me. Now, I constantly feel like something is missing. There’s this part of me that just won’t be fulfilled. There are way too many goals to focus on, the options and the absence of them turned me into an anxious walking zombie. I can't study, I can't produce, I don't even feel like getting up in the morning. I bet high on college and now it is letting me down. Expectation is a bitch.

 

So, Monday. College. People everywhere, talking, being friendly with each other, dating. As I go to my class, I see all these couples and can’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to share my life with someone. If only it wasn’t so messed up… Anyway, this isn’t something I should focus on right now. In fact, I can’t afford to let myself think about anything but music. I have a career to build and a family to make proud. A bisexual son who majors in Music, that’s disappointment enough for a lifetime.

What makes me feel better is that I’ve always planned to be behind the curtains, producing nice songs and stuff. If I were to be an artist my parents would probably give up on me. Well, to be honest, I don’t know that – but I know I would give up on myself, so. I don’t have the looks or even the will to work my ass off to be up on a stage. I’d rather see someone I trust in singing a piece I wrote or even using a melody I produced than doing it myself.

Lost in thoughts, I don’t realize where I’m heading until I bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, really.” He says and his smile reassures me that he really means it. I am about to nod and leave, but suddenly I get the feeling that I know him.

“Sorry but do we know each other? I mean, do we take class together or something?”

“Glad to know this face is memorable” he laughs “We actually take that class about cultural production together. What was its name again?”

“Uh… it’s actually Cultural Production”

“Oh. Well, nothing like a self-explanatory name, right?” he laughs again. Maybe he’s one of those people who laugh at anything they say. I smile a bit so it won’t be awkward for him.

“I guess. By the way, shouldn’t we be heading to that class?”

“In fact, yes, we should. But I will take a time to doze off at the library. Now, I’m telling you a secret, okay? Don’t spread”. Yes, he does laugh at anything he says.

“Yeah, sure. Then, I’ll leave first.”

“See you later, Jiwon-ssi.”

We wave each other bye and go on opposite directions. Before we are distant, I hear his voice.

“Hey, I’m Hanbin. Kim Hanbin.”

I turn my head so I can face him, nod one last time and head to class. As I open the door, I realize I’ve never said my name to him.

 

 

**Nowadays**

 

That damn dream again. I knew the wound would re-open if I went to that reunion with my past college classmates, but there I went anyway. Sometimes I think I’m the one to blame for all the pain I feel. I can’t just stop ruminating the past. But then again, why did they have to invite me for that damn thing?

Through the window, I see the sun burning the streets down there. I thank God, my efforts and the favorable economy for being able to get this apartment on the 20th floor. I’m so close to the sky – or so I like to think – that even in this way too hot summer the strong wind is refreshing inside my room.

Once I know that dream won’t let me have peace, I look for my Marlboro. Sitting next the window, I light it and think about him. Bin was a tall slender man, with a thick black hair that never got to grow too much. Hanbin would always cut it, sometimes allowing himself to have cute bangs – which later he would call annoying and frantically try to put away from his forehead. Even though he was a studious boy who barely got 5 hours sleep, he would find space in his routine to go to the gym. At least he pretended to be healthy. 

In the first months after he died, I used to dream a lot about him, mainly about that day when we first talked – just like last night. Back that time, I couldn’t imagine how fond of Hanbin I would grow to be.

After I bumped into him, we began to have real conversations. Time passed and we found ourselves glued to each other. One day he confessed that he actually made me bump into him on purpose – that was also the day when we first kissed. We were still sophomores back then and we acted like we had a lifetime ahead of us.

I finish my first Marlboro and go for another one. I should be quitting the cigarettes, but here I am turning my memories into ashes and smoke. Before going further in the painful dream, I decide to grab a beer. I leave my white suite room and go through the small corridor to the kitchen, passing by the living room.  The apartment is not big, but it’s comfortable enough for a lonely man. Besides the said rooms, it still has a bathroom to the guests that never come and a small area where I put the washing machine and the drying rack.

I open the fridge to face the nothingness. I barely had time to use my kitchen these days, let alone going to the supermarket. I grab the beer on the fridge and leave for my room. I’ve been spending all my time at YG, where I work as a music producer. Because there are always artists complaining about a piece I wrote or a melody I produced, I find myself busy almost all the time. The only reason I don’t go there on Sundays is because my superior, Nam Taehyun, asked me not to. He said something about musicians needing time to relax so they can compose good stuff.

Placing myself next to the window, I think once again about the dream. In the months that followed Hanbin’s death, I wondered if it would have been better if I’ve never talked to him in the first place. According to my psychologist, that may be the reason to why I dreamed so often about the moment we first talked. However, every time I asked myself that, I realized getting closer to Hanbin was one of the best things in my life.

Once he also wanted to become a music producer we had a lot in common. With Hanbin I was able to rediscover a lot about myself, to believe in my potential. When I look back, I see how addicted I was to him. Everything in my life started revolving around Kim Hanbin. We dreamed the same dreams, we did basically everything together. Even going to the supermarket alone became hard because there were too many memories.  I had to learn how to live by myself and to dream my own dreams.

He died in a car accident in our third year of college. He’d be 21 that year. One more year and he would be able to graduate. By that time, we were already working as interns at different small companies. Our main job was to grab coffee to our bosses, but gradually came the chances to prove our value. I wonder how great he would have been if at least he got the opportunity to live a little longer.

The ashes fell on me and made my white shirt dirty. The cigarette is almost at the end and I only realize when it burns my lips. Not a nice feeling, but nothing I ain’t used to. With age I become more and more distracted. If I’m not working I just can’t get to focus on anything. That’s probably why I’m always making myself busy.

When Hanbin died, I quit the job I had back then and stopped going to college for the rest of the term. When I went back, I’ve already decided I would focus completely on the task ahead of me: build a career. I didn’t want more time to mourn; I just wanted to forget about the pain. My parents, who knew about my relationship with Hanbin, forced me to go to therapy. Now, I’ve been doing it for 4 years and I have no will to stop. My job demands patience and a mental equilibrium that only therapy and exercises can give me. Besides, there’s this wound that tends to re-open from time to time.

I studied hard for the rest of that third year, knowing I would graduate a little late. Still, I wasn’t worried. I knew I needed time to recover enough to work properly again. When the fourth year came, I got another job opportunity as an intern in a small company. On my last year of college, I got through the interview at YG and was called for a job opportunity. 3 months working and I was either becoming a full-time worker or being dismissed. Ends up my efforts were well paid.

 

In order to get rid of all these thoughts I decide to go for a hot shower. First, I grab my phone and open Youtube, looking for one of those lofi playlists. They work perfectly with Sunday. Then, I head to the bathroom, leaving my clothes on the floor – it’s not like there’s someone to bitch about that. The hot water falls over my head, over my shoulders and I feel like it's cleaning me from the bad thoughts. I let the dream go as the water runs.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday finally arrives. I feel excited because I was assigned to a new project. Not only had I the chance to compose the song and produce it, but I was also invited to work together with the music video producer team. For the first time, I’ll be directly active in this. They told me I’m gonna be closer to the guy in charge of the color grading. Together, we must give the music video the vibes that perfectly match the song.

I’m heading to the place where the music video is being shot. The song is Getting By, the singer is ONE. He’s a new kid in the industry, really talented. I felt glad working with him. When he first arrived, we talked a lot about the kind of music he wanted to make, the people he wanted to work with. For his debut, I helped him with the melody for his other song, Heyahe, and composed Getting By. It feels nice to do things for people I believe in. It’s because of chances like this that I can survive in this dog eat dog world.

I meet the crew and nod politely. We all exchange names but I only get to remember the one from the color grading guy. Koo Junhoe, a tall man who looks like a model. His black hair matches his face perfectly and he has those curious shining eyes that act like they can see all the details and colors. He looks at the scenario like he’s already thinking about the palette of colors he’s gonna use.

I take my time analyzing my surroundings, thinking exactly what am I supposed to do. I was excited about this opportunity, now the fear threatens to come to surface. Changes are always hard to deal with, I should’ve known better.

My mind is going wild creating self-doubts thoughts when I realize someone’s talking to me.

“I’m curious about your opinion on this shooting. You had anything like this in mind?” Koo Junhoe, model guy, asks.

 “If I’m to be completely honest with you, an idea for the music video hadn’t come to me. I’m used to not being asked about this part of the job, you know?”

“That’s a shame, Jiwon-ssi. You, more than anyone knows how this should be like” he says, going back to look at the shooting. It feels like the conversation is over.

The things he said get to me. In fact, when you compose something, you kinda have in mind the feelings you’d like to see in the visual stuff. But to respect the creativity of those who would use my work, I’ve never told them about how they should shoot a music video.

“I mean, shouldn’t the artist just interpret the song as he wants?” I end up thinking out loud, which revives the conversation.

“I guess… but aren’t you part of this? If you composed something, shouldn’t you go along with it until all the work is done?”

“I can see your point, but I still think of it as stripping the artist of his right to do as he pleases. When I sell a piece I’m saying it then belongs to the buyer and the feelings on it will be the ones he sees on it.”

“Sometimes, the whole idea behind buying art seems off. I get it, though. The moment you sell a piece it becomes a product. Once this process is completed, you can no longer claim that as purely your work.”

Buying art, uh. When I thought I could be at peace with the work I’ve been doing, someone comes out of nowhere bringing back that childish discussion.

“I’ve been there once. Thought money was a dreadful thing, art should be out of passion. Reality hit hard, though. In the end, what I can say is, use money as a tool and don’t let it direct your work. Art is beyond all that”.

No further talks. We go back to paying attention to the shooting and what the rest of the crew is discussing.

 

 

At the end of the day, I feel like going home early, which is a first in a long time. And by early I mean at the end of a normal and almost-healthy work day. But as I think about the loneliness and whiteness of my room, I decide to go to my studio and see how I can busy myself a little more. Maybe there’ll be a trainee crying in the corridor in need of help with a song for an upcoming audition. YG seems to be really tough with its halfway idols.

“Jiwon-ssi, wait a bit” I turn my head as I hear my name. Turns out it’s Koo Junhoe.

“Junhoe-ssi? Uh, can I help you with something?”

“Well, I was thinking about talking about our partnership a little more over dinner. Are you heading home?”

“Not really…” I am not into eating dinner with colleagues, mainly when I barely know them, but if I need to get to know him anyway, better being in my free time. “There’s a nice place around here, we can go there now.” Song Yunhyeong, the best friend I inherited from Hanbin, has been all crazy about a café-salad franchise. Few days ago I realized there’s one near my work place, now I’ll finally give him a reason to stop babbling about how I need to check their food and Americano.

 

Getting to the Café, we start looking for a table. It has lots of white and pastel colors, which feels nice to my eyes. I like clean and comfortable places, white and pastel makes me feel good. I can see Junhoe is looking all around him, I wonder if he pays attention to the colors of the places he goes.

We ask the waiter for Americanos and Caesar Salads and begin to talk as soon as he walks away.

“Kim Jiwon-ssi, let me tell you beforehand a little about the colorist’s work. We alter and enhance the colors of the picture, we go for color correction and artistic effects. By this, we are able to change a scene completely, giving it the feelings we want people to get when watching.” He tells me about more technical details, taking a break once in a while to make sure I understand.

The waiter brings the Americano and the salads. Junhoe drinks his, takes a bite of the greens on his plate and keeps on talking about his work. It’s kinda difficult to follow sometimes and I can’t see myself doing much to help him, but it’s a subject really interesting. Or so it seems by hearing it from someone so passionate about his work. Junhoe talks about the colors like they have a magical power. It’s like we will be playing Harry Potter by using them. By the time he finishes explaining, we already finished eating and the waiter comes to clean the table.

Nothing left to say, we get up and leave the Café. I hadn’t talked much, once I was the one who needed to learn. It was a pleasant and extremely helpful dinner. Obviously I still lack in many ways, but it’s not like I will be taking Junhoe’s place, I just need to assist and give feedback.

Questions may arise, for my part they definitely will, so we decide to exchange numbers and emails – after all, technology is a blessing to us working men.

“I’m excited with the opportunity to work with you, Koo Junhoe-ssi.” He smiles as saying “thank you” in a well mannered way. We say our goodbyes and he goes on the opposite direction. I stand a little too long watching him go, thinking about the task ahead. To work with someone who gives his best is not as common as one may imagine.


	3. Chapter 3

As I head home after my boxing class, I remember there are no more cigarettes left, so it’s a must to buy some more. I take the opportunity and go to the supermarket to get anything easy to make and at least a bit nutritious. If I don’t keep my body fulfilled I’ll probably end up fainting on the streets – yeah, that already happened, so.

I take some vegetables, meat and rice and head over to checkout. On my way to the cashier, I take some beers, picking a famous German brand. First time I drank it I was with Hanbin and Yunhyeong, but back in the days I wasn’t really into beers. The 18-years-old me thought getting wasted was a good choice, so I’d only drink cheap vodka. Ends up Bin and Yun introduced me to the adult world of beers.

It’s pretty fucked up the way these memories mess with me. Sometimes, I’m able to smile at them and missing the old times doesn’t really hurt. But there are times when the tears come to my eyes and I only realize when I caught myself suppressing the sobs. Today is one of the hard days. I wipe the tears with the back of my hand and go to the cashier so I can check out and leave.

 

After the supermarket I went home and cooked something simple, taking a cold shower right after. Once I don’t really have to care about fashion, I stick to white t-shirt, jeans, hoodie and sneakers and ain’t nobody complaining about my style. Nobody except for Yun, but we don’t work together so I don’t get to hear all that whining about how I should dress more properly etc.

I usually go to work after lunch. Not that I’m so important I can’t work on the morning shift – the thing is, I stick until late at night so even my superiors think I should sleep a little. Besides, music industry isn’t known for normal work hours. Today, however, instead of going to my usual studio, I get to know the room of the music video producer team.  Junhoe and I have to meet and decide about the color grading for ONE’s MV, which I hope will keep me busy until late.

 

Junhoe is the kind of guy who likes dark tones, such as black, grey and dark blue. Because the song and the scenario didn’t really match it, we decided to go with a lighter palette. There are pastel tones, light blue, and white throughout the MV, which matches the singer and the song.

We finish the work pretty late, around 3 a.m., which is why we can’t stop yawning. However, even though we are tired as fuck, seeing the result of our efforts seems to give us both a sense of accomplishment as we smile slightly at the music video. We had worked on the color grading for 11 fucking hours. Obviously we had taken some breaks to eat, go to the bathroom, drink coffee and smoke. Junhoe and I finished the whole pack of Marlboro and the only reason we didn’t keep on smoking was because I ran out of cigarettes. Every time we smoked one, he’d be like “I’m not really into cigarettes, you know. Just need one to focus”. Ends up he needed ten. Acceptance is the first step an addicted has to take but I ain’t telling him this.

“The MV looks pretty good to me. Not that I’m intimate with ONE, but I think it matches him pretty well and it gives the right feelings.”

“The feelings the composer put on the song, uh”.

I smile at that. “You didn’t really buy what I said yesterday”.

“I’m used to work on movies, you know. The director and the screenwriter are always taking active part on my job, telling me the feelings they want the scenes to provoke, etc. It’s kinda difficult to me thinking about color grading a MV with no words from the composer. That’s why I specifically asked your superior to put you on this.”

That explains a lot. I was so excited-anxious-excited again I didn’t really pay attention to the fact that out of the blue I was being asked to work with a new team. So, if not for Koo Junhoe I wouldn’t have had this chance. Seems like I owe him one.

“Thank you, Junhoe-ssi. This opportunity… I think it gave me a new perspective. We still differ when it comes to the need of the composer’s active implication on the MV making, but now I see I can do a nice job on the audiovisual. As long as I have a colleague like you by my side, of course.” I wink playfully at him as I finish my sentence.

“I’m flattered” he says laughing. I guess it’s the first time I see him laughing. I’m so used to work alone or with boring grumpy idols that sometimes I forget how nice it feels to make someone laugh.

Working at a studio can be really lonely at times. People think we are always surrounded by playful co-workers, having fun while composing stuff. But the truth is, sometimes the only words I got to say is “good afternoon” and “good night” – the last one is directed to the security guards. I got used to it and started to think it wasn’t really a big deal, that it was much better to be left alone. However, I must confess that working 11 hours with someone else was a great experience. Besides the obvious tiredness, there were small talks and knowledge shared, which made the work hours a lot better.

“I particularly think we made a really nice job” he continues “so I hope you get more chances like these, even if that means not having a colorist as efficient as me by your side”. So, he’s capable of making jokes. It’s past 3 a.m. and here we are, laughing at things like this. “Hey, being serious now. If you ever get the chance to request taking part on the MV making, please do. You really contribute a lot to this”.

“Thanks again, Junhoe-ssi. It really means a lot”.

After this, we begin to get ready to leave. Worst time of the day for me: going back to my shell.

 

I come home to find the expected absence of living presence. Sometimes it’s pretty hard for me to be here, I have nothing to distract me from my thoughts. There was a time when my apartment looked liked it had just got out of a magazine, no signs of human activity whatsoever. I was in a darker place that time, around one year after graduation. 

Since Hanbin’s death I’ve been transitioning from a hardly-acquired peacefulness to sadness. After I graduated, I got a job and months later started financing this apartment. When I moved out of my parent’s house and officially started adulthood, I went through one of the bad moments. Yunhyeong would not allow me to be alone, what lead me to spend most of the time at his house. Nowadays my room looks a little untidy, lived-in.

It’s already past 4 a.m. when I get home and for my sake I’m sleepy. Working with Junhoe was as good as it was tiring. All I need right now is a hot shower and the warmness of the sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

Few days had passed since I worked with Junhoe. Another sad weekend came, then fortunately a Monday and now comes the Wednesday, which means therapy. The only day I can really open my heart to someone and tell everything that’s going on inside my head. The chance I get to get rid of the bad feelings so I can go on living.

To say I do therapy only because of Hanbin would be a lie. I’ve dated my problems for much longer than I dated him, for starters. Besides, working in a big company like YG can really ruin your life if you don’t take care of your mental health. Can’t say Kim Hanbin isn’t the most common topic, though.

 

The therapist room is peaceful; it’s all about white and pastel shades of pink. Neither big not small, it’s an average and comfy room. On the left, there’s a wall bookcase overflowing with Freud, Jung and others psychology books. In the middle of the room, there are two chairs facing each other. Behind it and close to the wall, there’s one of those office table and chair set, books and stationery laying on the table. Finally, on the right wall there’s a Freud-ish divan and a chair.

My therapist is a psychoanalyst, which explains the divan. Jennie Kim is a small woman, dark haired and extremely patient. When my parents first dragged me to her, I got nervous as soon as I walked past the door. I remember feeling lost and apprehensive. But as I laid eyes on the amicable smile she was giving me, I relaxed a little bit. Jennie is one of those people who exhale peacefulness and good vibes. Also, she has always respected my time, never pushing me too much.

After one year of therapy, I was told to go to divan. Since then, I’ve been doing sessions laying on it. At first it feels kinda weird, but with time you realize how good it is. Jennie knew exactly when I needed to get to the divan so you can say the experience has been a success. Over the last 3 years, few were the times when I asked her to talk face to face.

Laying down and facing the wall, I hear Jennie saying in her calming voice, “Jiwon-ssi, how have you been?”

 

I sit, still wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Jennie offers me a tissue and I politely accept it. The session is over for today and I have to get ready to leave, but I still take a few deep breaths before doing so. Jennie doesn’t say anything nor does she hurry me.

I started today talking about the excitement I felt being able to participate on the process of making the MV. I talked quite a lot how important I thought it was and how content I felt working alongside Koo Junhoe. Then, she asked me more details about the work and the co-worker. She seemed interested in this topic, probably because I don’t talk much about friends and colleagues. I mean, I’m not the most popular guy, so. Anyway, I kept telling her how much it meant to me and how good it felt to work with another person, not being alone for hours straight.

I wanted to keep talking about common things such as work. I wish I could afford being that kind of person, who has little daily problems to deal with. However, at some point I felt the urge to tell her about the dream. It was too heavy in my chest and I knew I had to spit it out. When I did, tears came right after.

I leave the room, kinda desperate to grasp some fresh air. The streets are crowded and for a moment I freeze. It sucks to be surrounded by so many people and noise. Taking a deep breath, I try to let go of the aversion to crowded places and start walking to the subway.

It’s already 1:30 p.m. and I have to get to work at 2 p.m. Moments like these make me think about getting a car, but memories hold me back. It was already a nightmare when my parents forced me to get a driving license. They not only thought that it’d be helpful in the future but also that it’d make me less anxious about cars – meaning that it’d make me overcome the trauma from Hanbin’s death. I learned it’s better to use the bus and the subway.

 

This small studio feels like home. I used to like pure air but nowadays breathing inside of this box makes me feel alive. It’s a place where I can grab all the pain, sorrow, regret, all the uneasy feelings and take them out of my chest. Most of the songs I compose stay with me – I can’t make a product out of everything. I may sing them sometime or maybe keep them as my diary. Doesn’t really matter: as long as I am capable of expressing my feelings I’ll have peace.

On my way here I received an email from my superior telling me ONE’s MV would probably be out in a few weeks. The market has a schedule for everything. What gets me is the little time they gave us to work, given the fact it isn’t even an urgent matter. But you know, it’s not even worth getting mad.  Besides, it’s not like it was unpleasant working with Koo Junhoe.

 

I’ve already been sitting on this chair for a few hours, my ass is sore. It’s time for a break, which consists of Marlboro and getting coffee from the machine downstairs. There is also an open space where employees usually gather to talk about random stuff or just appreciate the view and forget about the deadlines. I go down already praying to find that spot empty, or as empty as it can be. Not really into talking right now.

I get a can of coffee, which is not the best I’ve tasted. Then again, you can’t expect something in a can to be tasteful. I head to my spot, my free hand going for the Marlboro pack in my jeans pocket. There are not many people here and they are already busy with their talk. I sit on the most distant bench, the cigarette I’m lighting right now being the best explanation for my antisocial behavior. Putting the can aside, cigarette on my lips, I get my phone and my earphones, going for the last Epik High album. I close my eyes, giving in to the vibes. Everything feels incredibly good – until a hand dares to take off my earphone.

“Busy?”

“Does it look like it?” I retort, eyes still closed.

Don’t people have a sense of respect for another’s space? For a second there I thought about pretending to be asleep, but I don’t know anyone who manages to sleep while sitting on a bench, cigarette on their lips and an open coffee can on their hand.

“Well, it doesn’t look like it”.

I think I know this voice, so I open my eyes planning to give the probably known person my mortal gaze and – “Junhoe-sii!!” Geez, I really hope that talk about first impressions being the most important are real or else I’ve just turned myself into a whining bitch on his eyes. “Oh… how have you been?”

“Not as busy as you, I think” he chokes, which leads me to smile in relief. Not that I care too much about others opinions, but it’s nice to have someone who I enjoyed working with not disliking me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was hired to do another job. Kinda expected you to be the composer of this song, but turns out it’s the singer himself. Happy I got to see you, though. Maybe we could grab something after we are done. Discuss work and color palettes”.

My first answer to these kind of invitations are no, because I’m usually too busy sulking at my studio. However, since I had a good talk with Junhoe last time (and Yunhyeong told me earlier to have a proper dinner)… “Yeah, sure”.

 


	5. Chapter 5

If I knew that “grab something” meant coming to a bar, I’d have thought twice before accepting the invitation. I even decline company drinking nights! The only person I go out to drink with is Song Yunhyeong. I mean, he was there when I had my first beer, so. We are like drinking partners. Unfortunately, I’m way too well-mannered to say ‘oh, you know what, I’m leaving’. Junhoe isn’t as boring as my co-workers, so I guess the odds are with me this time.

I follow Junhoe around, as he seems to already know this place. It’s one of those small, poorly lit bars from old ajummas – the best ones, I gotta say. Beer is cheap and people don’t pay you too much attention. It’s the kind of place where the elders gather to discuss economy and the workmen come to relax a bit before heading home. Junhoe leads us both to a table on a corner, next to a window. From it we see lights and buildings, which is basically all we got here on Seoul. A young woman, who is probably the owner’s daughter, comes to our table to take our orders. We ask for beer and food and she leaves right after taking note.

The bar smells of grilled pork belly and fried chicken, making me realize I’m actually starving. Junhoe and I haven’t really spoken much since we left YG building and now that we are not busy with anything (i.e. walking) it’s getting a bit awkward. Last time we had a topic to discuss so it was easy to start a conversation, but that’s not the case today and I’m not the most sociable one.

The waitress comes back with our beers and we haven’t started talking yet. Junhoe seems to sense the awkward atmosphere, but he doesn’t look as worried as I am. Actually, he’s taking his time analyzing his surroundings. Something tells me he does like this place. Alcohol and the lack of brightness gives the bar a gloomy aura that goes well with him.  While he’s busying himself looking around I find myself paying attention to his features. His black hair is really thick and his skin is sun kissed. He has some cute cheeks and I bet he has a friend who loves to squish them. I lose myself in those kinds of thoughts – that is, until our eyes met and I realize I have been staring at him. He smiles friendly and I feel my face burning in embarrassment. I mentally thank the ajumma for her dingy bar.

“Do you like it here?” he finally begins a conversation, still looking into my eyes.

“Yeah. Even though it’s a bar, it’s quite peaceful. No one is screaming or fighting, it’s almost a blessing”. I recall being taken to some bars where men would pick up fights over literally anything. Sometimes it’s good to drink knowing there’s no one being punched behind you.

“I’m glad! If that’s the case, let’s come back another day as well”.

We barely got here and he’s already planning our next hang out session! It’s pretty hard for me to understand those sociable people, I don’t know if I can keep up with their pace. Nevertheless, I can’t stop myself from smiling and nodding in agreement – all because he had that damn friendly smile on his face. He’s too nice.

Talking to him now seems like an easy task, all that previous awkwardness completely (or quite so) vanished. The waitress then brings us our fried chicken and we start devouring it as soon as it’s put in front of us. Two grown men eating chicken like they’ve just came back from war – that’s certainly not the best sight. Fortunately, there is no one to mind our absence of well-manners. We are so starving that we barely talk while eating, stopping chewing only to drink more beer.

When we finally finish it, I feel in heaven. The food was delicious and I even had the privilege of enjoying it with a good drink. Life is good. Junhoe had a pleased smile on his face, looking as satisfied as I am.

“You know, Jiwon-ssi, this bar is almost a special place to me, one that I’ve been frequenting for quite some time now” He begins, making eye contact as if to reassure me of the validation of his words. “I feel like it muffles the outside noise, allowing me to enjoy its darkish aura. I feel at ease. Having someone liking this place… it somehow makes me happy”.

Not finding words good enough to reply, I try my best to give him a grateful smile. The thought that he may think I don’t appreciate what he just said scares me – I don’t want to see his gaze turning into a painful one. However, there’s something is his stare that makes me realize he knows my feelings. Between us emerges some kind of mutual understanding.

 

I completely lost track of how many bottles we have ordered. The dizziness tells me it was quite a lot, maybe a little more than someone who is about to take the train home should have had. Junhoe doesn’t appear to be in a better state than mine, which kinda worries me. Nonetheless, while I’m here thinking about our chances to successfully get our ass home, he is undisturbed, quietly gazing out of the window.

“The countless lights, the countless buildings and the countless people… come together in harmony, and it’s beautiful”.

His voice is low and I get the feeling he thought out loud. It strikes me, though. Somehow this drives my gaze to the view I had seen earlier, not knowing what to expect from that. When I first saw it, still sober, it was just an everyday sight, a Seoul I know well. However, now it gives out some weird feelings. Junhoe, this gloomy aura I got used to, the alcohol… all come together and change my perspective. I sense the harmony Junhoe talked about, also something nostalgic coming from it.

“I guess… there’s something beautiful about the lights, it’s like they are signs of life. The city seems to be alive”. Junhoe looks at me, drunkenness in his eyes and voice still low as he replies.

“From up close, the world is endlessly rough but it’s cruel how beautiful it is from afar”.

We stay silent for a moment and I allow his words to sink within, giving me an uneasy feeling. I feel his words moving something inside of me.  Junhoe keeps the eye contact and I refrain myself from breaking it. As he looks deeply into my eyes, I wonder if he’s aware of the effect he has on others.


	6. Chapter 6

**JUNHOE’S POV**

The music playing on the headphones echoes in my head. Epik High has a way to get to you, to mess with your weakness, to make you face it.

_Here come the regrets / here comes the ‘I wish I hadn’t done it’_

I wish I hadn’t said it and I wish that I could take it all back. How many times have these thoughts crossed my mind? Letting out a sight, I switch the playlist, going for something that actually makes me feel better. Sometimes we just don’t want to think about the painful memories and there’s no need for me to dig into them. In the end, that relationship wouldn’t last much longer. I guess there are times when a relationship comes to an end but the two parts just keep going, pretending they don’t realize there’s a divide between them… until one of them fucks up, showing up drunk late at night. And that’s it, what they have been waiting to come for some time: the last fight, the official break up.

Kim Jinhwan was the love of my life once. He became a writer, publishing prose books, subjective ones, exploring everything he could about human nature. Near the end, I used to wonder if I’ve fallen in love with him or his writing. He has this divine gift that allows him to read people pretty well, which turned out to be an excellent weapon. He dissects people in real life and in his fictions. With time, I began to hate this side of him. I grew to learn that if fame doesn’t poison people it will at least cause them to change in greater ways. Not that Jinhwan became a prick, but he began to grow distant until I couldn’t reach him anymore. 

It’s still 5 a.m. Insomnia is a bitch. Somehow my playlist shifted from a calm and not painful one to Epik and then Nell’s songs, which means suffering. “Great”. I get out of bed and walk until the desk, looking for my cigarettes. Camel Blue. I light it up and bring it to my lips, expecting the peacefulness that comes from smoking. However, it only gives me a bitter taste. Camel Blue. The first time I got a pack was from Kim Jinhwan. I stub it out on the ashtray and take my ass back to bed, hands empty.

I remember the times when I’d fought Jinhwan because of his distant behavior. There were occasions when he would just look at me with that pretentious glare, eyes that said “I can see through you and oh, dear, how childish you are”. At the beginning, he was still able to read me as if I were an open book, but with time he became way too full of himself and little concerned about me so he started missing how I truly felt.

Being around him was tiring. He got famous and the whole country would praise him for his work. He’d smile so much at others that eventually there were no more smiles left for me. He started treating me as a nuisance, as someone so dumb and oblivious, someone not capable enough to understand him and his work. Low self esteem then became a reality for me and I lived as a shadow at my own house.

The day I got home drunk as fuck, he was finishing a book. When I woke up next morning, still on the floor in which I passed out the night before, he was smoking his Camel, his luggage laying next to the sofa. It took him just a moment to drop the cigarette, get up and start yelling. That’s how a 5-years-old relationship ends.

After two years of breaking up, he showed up yesterday and we talked for the first time since that fight. I heard he’s dating someone now and that he thought it would be nice to catch up. The truth is, he just wanted to make sure I don’t hate him. He needed to be assured that he’s still loved by everyone – he just can’t deal with the fact that a person may hold grudges against him. Back on college, where we first met, he was kinda like that too. I remember spending nights cuddling him, telling him it’s alright if some classmates disliked him, that he shouldn’t pay them so much attention.

As always, I reassured him that I liked him, even though we had gone through a lot. It was supposed to be a lie, a way to make him stop bothering me, but at the sight of his relieved smile I knew I’ve said the truth. The relief was not only in his smile but also inside me. That was the moment I realized I was free: I got rid of a burden I had been carrying for two years. I finally closed this door. Even though it still feels kinda weird and the painful memories won’t just vanish, I know I’m free.

 

When the playlist reaches its end, I get out of bed once more, taking a few steps until the table where the Camel Blue is. I take the pack, the ashtray and the lighter and throw everything in the garbage. The bitterness isn’t in my mouth anymore and from now on I decide to taste better things.

Sometimes all we have to do is to let go of the hand we’ve been holding.

 

**BOBBY’S POV**

_Ever since you left, been rainy days_

I expected to wake up to a sunny day, but the sky has this Junhoe-ish palette – basically, gray. I had a bad night’s sleep and I feel like the outside is just a reflection of my own mind. First thing I did after getting up was set an Epik High playlist, brush my teeth and sit next to the window to smoke.

_I’ve been a fuckin’ mess_

I dreamed about Hanbin again, my mind is up to play games with me. Nonetheless, it’s not uncommon for me to have these kind of dreams one or two days before my therapy session. It’s like my unconsciousness is giving me therapy material. _Still faded and drunk as shit_. Tablo’s words make me think about last night’s beers. Drinking way too much and going to sleep drunk never was a good option – but then again, am I even capable of choosing the easy path?

I go take a shower the moment when “Here come the regrets” stops playing, shifting now to “Kill this love”. It is sad how much I can relate to some of Epik’s lyrics and how some of them bring back memories. I’ve tried to forget, to stop listening to them, but it’s kinda impossible. They are under YG to begin with, so I end up taking part on their process of making an album. I remember being on the studio with them, trying hard not to think how much Hanbin would love to be in my place.

 _Somebody help me kill this love_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about junhoe's pov: this is not happening again - even though i think it should. sorry, my two brain cells couln't come up with more stuff.


	7. Chapter 7

ONE’s MV being (finally) out, Junhoe asks me if I would like to celebrate on the ajumma’s bar. I leave the work at 8 p.m., surprising some co-workers who still haven’t got the chance to go home.

Junhoe and I chat on Line sometimes about random stuff. Few days ago we went to the same Café and had a nice talk at lunch. I even found out a little more about his job. It seems that he works for a small company and he’s allowed to have his own clients, as long as it doesn’t harm the company in any way. It’s so different from YG that I’m not sure I can quite understand. Basically, I think he’s allowed to have a life outside the company.

Since that night on the bar, I feel like Seoul has a peculiar color palette. I perceive its movements differently. The buildings, the lights, the people… they inspire me somehow. I can grasp what it means when people talk about seeing the beauty in little things. I’ve been writing quite a lot lately, the songs talk about daily life and small pleasures. For some time I had been feeling suffocated in the city, lost. Now I’m going after what would be necessary to find your true self in the midst of all this. These feelings lead my thoughts to Koo Junhoe. There’s this poetic side of him, like he’s seeing the world in a distinctive perspective. I find myself questioning how would it feels like to discover the world through Junhoe’s eyes.

 

I get to the bar to find that Junhoe is already there, sitting on the same corner near the window. This time I approach the table having my eyes directed to the view, watching the lights playing outside. I sit down on a chair across Junhoe’s, still quite attracted to the sight. Only when I notice him pouring beer on my glass I look directly to his eyes, now offering him my completely attention.

“You look amused by the view”.

The grogginess on his voice caught my attention, so I ignore his question, asking another instead. “Have you been drinking for a while?”

He has an ironic smile playing on his lips. Something seems off. He doesn’t really look like someone in the mood for celebrations.

“Are you even listening while I talk to you?”

“So, I assume you have been drinking” He looks at me but as he opens his mouth to throw some upset comment on me, I add “Yes, I am amused by the view. What happened?”

He is obviously thinking about what to say, his expression is one of confusion. I take that he’s trying to figure out if he should open up to me. It’s not like we are intimate, so-

“My ex boyfriend came to see me few days ago. No, I don’t want to go back or anything. I just started feeling like I haven’t really experienced anything great since we broke up two years ago. Not like I have time for that, to be honest. I was just thinking… life doesn’t stop – doesn’t matter if you are able or not to keep up. Life won’t wait for you. And the thing is, when you realize that, you’ve already lost some damn precious time”.

Junhoes stops talking and finish the whole glass of beer. His words were so fast I have to take a moment to analyze everything that has been said. Life doesn’t stop, uh… More and more I feel like his words hold a power to affect others in unpredictable ways. I don’t know if I’ve digested all of that but suddenly I feel an urge to spill some words.

“Sometimes, all you have to do is keep going on. Call it living, surviving – it doesn’t matter. As long as you don’t stop moving, that’s alright. Life ain’t waiting for anybody, that doesn’t mean you have to keep up with its pace, though. Do your thing in your time. Respect your limits. When you feel strong enough, take the big steps, face life, go after what you want. Get over-”

My tongue freezes on the mid of the sentence. Getting over, what bullshit am I saying? I usually hate hypocrites, people who are always babbling about stuff that not even they are able to do. Nonetheless, here I am, trying to put up counseling time when I myself am not sure of what the hell is going on with life.

“Get over what, Jiwon-ssi?” Junhoe’s eyes are curiously analyzing me, scanning me. Deep down I fear he’ll be able to see through my walls, ones that I so carefully built around myself. He just won’t stop forcing his way in – even though I’m not sure if he realizes what he’s doing. “Some part of you can’t get over certain matter, is that it? What is it that you, who implied I should overcome my hardship, can’t get over?”

I could just ignore all this, pour us some more beer and stare out of the window. However, his gaze won’t let me. He looks at my eyes in a way that makes it impossible to break the contact. He’s already seeing through me.

“A boyfriend who has been dead for four years”.

The silence is heavy and distressing. Junhoe’s eyes show a mix of feelings, I think I can see surprise, pain, pity. I have my hands below the table so he won’t see how they are shaking. I take a deep breath and look at the sight. The lights are still there, so are the buildings. There are people out there, somewhere, doing daily activities. They can be dating, fighting, talking, working… this window shows a world of possibilities. Out there you may have people living their lives without worrying about losing precious time, a heartbroken or the absence of a loved one.

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I would never push you- I didn’t want to, I… am sorry”.

My hands gradually stop shaking and I take the glass and drink the beer in one gulp. The liquid wasn’t as cold as it should so the feeling of swallowing it isn’t the best. My throat feels sore so I pour more beer in my glass, finishing it once again in one gulp. As the alcohol makes its way through my body, my thoughts shift once more to what I’ve just said.

I can’t deny that Hanbin’s death messes with me when even talking about it makes me uneasy. However, having told Junhoe about this means more than he could imagine. For four years I’ve been avoiding this subject, except for Yunhyeong and Jennie (my therapist). I tend to cry when talking about Hanbin, feeling like the wound is about to re-open. Nevertheless, I was able to tell Junhoe a small part of this and I had myself under control. For the first time in years, the part of me who can’t stop sulking feels like the wound won’t re-open.

“Life really doesn’t stop for us who are left here. When he died, I thought the clocks all over the world had stopped. I mourned for months as if my own life was on pause, as if I could move on when I felt like it. I thought life had to wait because I couldn’t face it yet. But as you said, life goes on, doesn’t matter if we can keep up or not. I moved on eventually, survived each day, faced the clocks and made myself go through what I had to. Getting over, though, I’m still working on that”.

“You’re brave, Jiwon. I feel small in front of you”.

I’m too dizzy and too hurt to care about the sudden drop of honorifics. If I’m to be completely honest, after what has been said, it feels right. For the time being, I’ll look at Junhoe as a confident, someone intimate. As long as this night last, we’ll forget about what we really are to each other – colleagues.

“Look more carefully at yourself, Junhoe. I see greatness in you”.

 

I wake up with the sun bathing me and an expected headache. I try to think about last night but only fragments remain, mostly about our deep conversation at the beginning. What strikes me is the fact that I can’t recall dreaming about Hanbin, even though it has been some kind of pattern now: get drunk, dream about him, sulk. There’s a strange feeling coming from this extraordinary event, like I miss the suffering usually brought by these kind of mornings. Anyhow, appreciating the sun kissing my skin just after I opened my eyes, knowing I had a night of sleep as peaceful as the drunkenness allowed… this is a small pleasure I want to get used to.

I could easily spend all the time on bed today. It’s Saturday and I am not obliged to go to work. In order to do that, though, I need to at least take some medicine for the headache, which means going all the way to the kitchen to get a glass of water and the meds.

I take my lazy ass and heavy head through the corridor, when suddenly a noise startles me. I hear water running on the kitchen sink – is it possible that my stupid self left the faucet on for fucking hours? I just woke up and I’m already mad at myself. I walk faster now, kinda desperate to save the planet by stopping the waste of precious water. As I enter the kitchen I see something that freezes me on spot.

“Good morning” I’m greeted by a shirtless Junhoe. My mouth is open in an O and I can’t find words to greet him back. My mind is too busy trying to glue all the fragments from yesterday.

“I’m sorry for being so noisy, I was really hungry and –”

“How did you end up here?” I didn’t mean to be that rude but my brain isn’t functioning well enough for me to be as polite as I should.

“We had drunk sex”.

I expected Koo Junhoe to make me regret going out for a drink but this wasn’t the scenario I had in mind.

Junhoe realizes my confusion and leaves the situation as it is. I look for the meds I came here for and take it with a glass of water. There’s already coffee so I pour myself a cup. I sit, sipping the black coffee with no sugar, allowing its bitterness to make my thoughts clear.

I remember our deep talk. We drank quite a lot after that, Junhoe talked about how fucked up his boyfriend was. A writer, maybe? I feel an urge to ask him but I come to my senses first – who talks about ex in any situation that doesn’t involve alcohol? So I keep trying to make the little fragments come together in one big picture. I talked about Hanbin, missing him or something. Bottles of beers came one after another.

Some time passes as I make an effort to remember. I know that because Junhoe finishes eating, then does the dishes and ask me if he can take a shower. I tell him where to find a towel and he goes without another word. As I watch his back, his sun kissed skin, a fragment come to me. Junhoe laying on the bottom, my hands going down his spine and my mouth leaving wet kisses on his neck. A chill goes through my veins as I remember him whispering in a husky voice, ‘Don’t leave any marks’. My body suddenly seems to remember the warmth from his. Now, little by little the pieces come together. I rest my face on my hands and wonder how much I screwed up.

It’s not like I haven’t had sex in the past four years, it’s just that I don’t do it with colleagues. If I want to get laid, I go to a bar at a distant neighborhood and end up in a motel room. There are no sleeping together and having breakfast at home – I get laid, I go home. Having a colleague I enjoy going out with at my home after we had ‘drunk sex’ is the kind of situation I would avoid at all costs.

“Any memory back yet?” The husky voice startles me, who was lost in thought.

“Yeah”. I need to say something about this situation, clarify stuff and this monosyllabic reply seems like the worst way to do so. “About yesterday, uh… I just want you to know that, well, it wasn’t planned. I had no intention to drag you here. I also don’t plan on cultivating any kind of romantic or sexual relationship –”

“I know. I came because I wanted to; I did what I did because I felt like it. Plus, there are too many dicks in town, don’t worry about me being biased towards yours”.

Somehow I feel like I just walked out from a “shade time” show. I guess it’s better than facing someone angry for not getting anything after having sex. I don’t know how to deal with expectations whatsoever, plus I don’t want to ruin (probably the only) nice relationship I have with a colleague.

 “Good”. It’s all I manage to say, which is kinda frustrating. Nonetheless, Junhoe gives me one of his polite smiles. He then gets ready to leave, making sure he’s not forgetting anything, such as wallet or phone. I walk him to the door, a weird silence between us. As always, he breaks the weirdness easily.

“Next time, let’s order more fried chicken than beers”. He smiles showing his teeth and I can’t help but smile back. We nod goodbye and he walks to the elevator. I watch his back once again until I slowly begin to close the door. I am afraid of what’s going to happen.

‘Next time, huh’.


	8. Chapter 8

I come home from the boxing class, desperate for a shower and anything to fill this hole in my stomach. I feel like all my energy has been drained, as well as my worries and stress, so I don’t really mind feeling dead inside. Some days have passed since I saw Junhoe for the last time. With time, all the fragments came together and I could remember details from that night. Every time I think about this I feel like my heart is a light switch and someone is turning it on. There’s this sparkle that astonish me. I got too used to the dark, I don’t know if I like the light that comes with these memories. To be honest, I don’t know if I should like it or not. Times like these I wish my therapist could actually tell me what to do, what to think.

I find myself in the bathroom, my body had just moved on automatic mode. I drop the sweaty clothes on the floor, promising myself I will do the laundry tomorrow. I slide the shower glass door and turn on the faucet. The water is cold and falls heavily on my head. I wash my hair, thinking about the feeling of certain someone’s hand on it. This is all so fucked up.

 

Instead of cooking, I decide to grab a sandwich on my way to work. I almost regret it when facing the waiting line at Subway, but by now I’m starving to the point I feel like I could pass out any time. Once it seems I’ll be standing for quite some time I look for my phone, thinking about songs I can listen to make this more tolerable. Unlocking it, I realize there are worried messages from Yunhyeong, which is pretty common around this time of the day.

Lunch time means having Yun spamming the Line chat with “are you having lunch? Did you put some vegetables?” and so on. I always play the harsh boy, saying “you’re not mom” or “get a life, I beg you” but we both know I think this is all cute. This time, however, besides Yun’s message I see one from Junhoe.

 _Hey, Jiwon, wanna grab something to eat? I’m actually around the Café_.

It seems unbelievable. I could never ask someone out for lunch after that awkward scene from some days ago. I guess he’s used to this kind of situation. It’s not like everyone lives the same boring lonely life as me. Still, I don’t even know if I can face him or even if I should… but the fact that he’s putting some effort in maintaining our easy-going relationship is kinda touching. He’s doing his part, maybe I should push things so everything goes back to normal.

 _Yeah, meet me in 20_.

I hope I don’t faint on the street.

 

“You do look hungry”.

Junhoe has this amused expression, laughing at how desperately I am eating. I usually have good manners on table – or at least I try to – but this time I could barely think. My stomach was eating my insides, I had no choice but to devour the salad and the sandwich. I finished while Junhoe was still sipping an Americano. Well, at least I managed to take a selfie eating the greens and sent it to Yunhyeong so he would be happy.

“That’s what boxing classes do to you”.

“Oh, so you’re a fighter, uh”. I nod in agreement, not asking him about possible sports once the answer is obvious: on his Line profile pic he’s wearing a jiu-jitsu kimono. “I tried boxing once but jiu-jitsu is so much better. You know, going down and all that”. He giggles and I can’t tell if it’s at his own joke attempt or at the fact I just spilled Iced Coffee on the table.

The thing about Koo Junhoe is, you never know what he’s going to do. Sometimes he’s gloomy, drinking beer and facing the surroundings. Times like these, you may even think your presence doesn’t make a difference and you consider just leaving him there by himself – but then he starts talking random poetry-ish stuff that makes you wanna stay. At other times, he acts all smiles, going for jokes and laughing at anything. Or show up shirtless at your kitchen. Anyway, that’s actually the reason behind our easy-going relationship. If it weren’t for his personality and social skills, we probably wouldn’t be talking.

Now, even though I lack on socials skills and usually reply monosyllabic, I pay attention to everything he says and I actually give it a thought. I lose myself on his words and sometimes I feel dizzy after making eye contact. His eyes sparkle when he talks about what he likes, about the colors he sees in the world. I wish I could ask him in which colors he sees me. I wouldn’t mind being seen on his favorite black-gray pattern, as sad as it may be.

 

He finishes eating just in time for me to head work. Yunhyeong had message me few minutes ago, lots of hearts and “I am so happy” after the pic I sent. We leave the Café walking side by side and when we hit the still crowded streets I decide to show the Line convo to Junhoe so I can hear more of his laughter.

“Somehow I feel like a son who just made his mom proud” and before I can restrain myself, more words come running out of my mouth “If I am to be honest, for a while now I’ve realized it’s easier to feel like this towards Yun than my mom. Not that she doesn’t recognize my achievements, it’s just that having a bisexual music producer as a son is way too distant from the straight judge or doctor she had imagined, so she can’t really feel proud when it comes to small things. Yun, on the other hand, is always ready to congratulate me like I am his one year old kid who just took his first steps without falling”.

“All of us are trying to walk without falling and we need that motivational voice telling us to get up and go on walking. Your mom probably did that in the past, you should thank this Yun guy for staying until now”.

‘Everything you say sounds like poetry and your words touch my heart in a warm way. I appreciate everything you say and I wish I could return the warmness you give me’.

That’s what I wanted to say. However, all I manage is, “Song Yunhyeong. ‘Yun guy’ name is Yunhyeong.” I mentally curse myself thinking that’s probably the reason no one stays: because I can’t make my mouth work the way it was supposed to, because it probably lets people down. I can’t even look directly at him.

“It’s a nice name”.

When I turn to face him I’m welcomed by a friendly smile, as if he didn’t realize I haven’t properly thanked him for his supporting words. Or maybe as if he knows what I really wanted to say.


	9. Chapter 9

Five months and somehow he hasn’t gotten tired.

I don’t usually let people in because I’m too afraid of parting ways, because I can’t allow my heart to be broken over and over. Even before Hanbin, few had found a way in and it has always made me uneasy, anxious. It’s easier to be alone inside the white box I call bedroom, it’s easier to rely on Yunhyeong and my therapist and pretend I have all the support I need. Better saying, it was easier – hasn’t been since Junhoe, though.

I haven’t realized how much I needed to go out of my way and break my routine until I met Koo Junhoe. Taking a risk at work and going for a completely different thing, having drinking nights and lunches at the Café… small things that would put a smile on my face and give me strength to go through the day. Late night talks when I could slowly open my heart and organize my thoughts in order to understand a little more about what was going on inside my head.

Usually he was the first to initiate a conversation. We discovered we shared the passion for Line stickers and we did spend money buying some limited editions, which later he would use as the start of our talks. With time I found myself going to tell him I had just bought a new pack of stickers that he would absolutely adore. For quite some time I haven’t allowed Kim Jiwon to be anything but an adult, to behave in any way other than a music producer for a big company should. Yun was my escape from the pressure of being a grown-up independent man and nothing less – then Junhoe showed me it was okay to use my money on bunny stickers and discuss for a whole hour about whether or not we should buy more. We accepted each other, from the poet-ish colorist to the bad-at-jokes guy, from the music producer to the bunny-stickers-lover. We saw the weakness and flaws of each other and we embraced all of it.

June told me more details about the Kim Jinhwan. I remember feeling like my blood was boiling inside my veins because how could he hurt Junhoe? What really astonished me, though, was the fact that Junhoe let go. In the past few months I watched him carrying on and moving away from his past. It wasn’t baby steps, slow process – Junhoe faced it when he had to and just let go of “the hand he had been holding”, as he said. And watching this made me happy and proud and I swear I felt warm every time I saw him saying “Jinhwan” without a change on his expression because damn, a name can make you shrink. But it also made me envious. I envied – I envy – how Junhoe walked away from someone who is still alive while I feel stuck and in debt to someone who is already gone.

And I told Junhoe about Hanbin. It was one of those times when I just couldn’t avoid getting in a car. I was leaving the ajumma bar with Junhoe, both of us drunk and incapable of getting our ass to the subway. He asked for a driver through the app and I told myself it was okay. We got into the car and I managed to tell the driver more precisely directions to my house. Junhoe’s body was close to mine and it felt reassuring, so for a few minutes the ride seemed normal and I enjoyed the possibility of overcoming the fear – but then it hit hard. Tears fell and sobs came along with a sudden urgency to throw up. I remember the car stopping, the driver cussing and Junhoe asking desperately “hyung, what’s wrong”. The street was empty and the lights coming from all those streetlamps danced in a weird way. I told him everything when we got home. That night he hugged and cuddled me and his embrace impeded dreams about Hanbin from disturbing my shattered heart. This happened around one month and half ago and we have been sleeping together since.

 

“Smoking like a chimney, I wonder how you manage to fight on boxing class. I bet every healthy person there beats the crap out of you”.

“Funny. I remember this jiu-jitsu fighter smoking half of my Marlboro pack”. I sigh in protest, trying to make some kind of annoyed face even though I stub the cigarette out in the ashtray. Junhoe has an interesting way to make me do things. As I free my hands I roll to his side on the bed, placing myself above him in a way I can lift my torso. “Maybe he sucks at fighting”.

“Quitting did him good, though he could beat your ass even with his lungs full of toxins”. Junhoe smirks making my heart throb a little. Seems I haven’t gotten used to this.

“I would like to see him try”.

Suddenly, Junhoe’s legs are crossed over my torso and before I can do something he’s lifting me up and switching places, leaving me at the bottom.

“I told you not to underestimate my jiu-jitsu abilities, didn’t I, hyung?” he grins, his eyes sparkling with playfulness and a touch of lust. “Now, wanna see how I can beat your ass?”

 

We are still laying lazily and satisfied. I feel like nothing could ruin this moment – well, nothing except for Junhoe still putting the healthy boy façade. I was about to light my cigarette after sex when he took it from me. Honestly, who does he think he is? the Ministry of Health? 

“Yah, don't you ever stop? I've been smoking for the last couple of years and nothing happened”.

“Cool. Go to mama's church thank God. And quit”.

I watch him get out of bed with my Marlboro pack on his hand, taking the others that are placed on the table. I can feel something is off.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” He pretends not to hear and head to the bathroom. Curiosity wins me over and has me getting up to see what Junhoe is about to do with my dear Marlboro. My legs stop moving halfway to the bathroom as I hear the flush sound. He didn't do that…

“Junhoe-”

“If you go out to buy more, be certain that you won't find me when you come back” he calmly leaves the bathroom, nothing in his hands “Safety measures” he adds, looking at my expression of disbelief. I am not sure if I am mad or not, so I just go back to bed saying nothing. Junhoe lays by my side, pretending he just didn't flushed Marlboro packs, which costed me quite some money. “You’ll thank me one day”.

“Sure, mom”.

He laughs – what a surprise – and changes the subject. “So, movie?”

 

Junhoe ended up staying until late. He could have spent another night here, but he alleged that he had already extrapolated his social limit. Probably he went home to drink beer and write some sad pieces of poetry – another fact that I learned about him. Junhoe spends quite some “me-time” drinking and writing. No wonder he always has something poetic to say.

He writes his poems on a black covered notebook and sometimes carries it around. I got to know about it because one day he decided to show them to me. I tried to tell him how much I appreciated the gesture and what it meant; how much I loved the things he wrote and that his words always find their way to my heart. I wanted to tell Junhoe how my heart ached reading the sad verses and how bad I felt thinking that he may have went through that much pain. I wanted to tell him that I got a little jealous of the love poems that may or may not had been written to another person. I wanted Junhoe to know that I wished I was one of his verses and I almost asked if there was anything there written for me – but then I got afraid he would say “yes, the sad ones are about you”. In the end, I couldn't really tell him much. But he knew I loved them, somehow he always knows, so he kept showing.


	10. Chapter 10

_We need to be apart so that we can meet again._

 I see the light of his apartment turning on. It’s a yellowish light, or so it seems from down here. Maybe the non-thick curtain gives the room the dark yellow tone. I see his silhouette, his shadow dancing from one corner to another. I stand still on the sidewalk, smoking the Marlboro he told me to quit, watching his shadow moving. I had actually quit smoking but then he went away and I had nothing else to keep me together.

How would it feel to be in that room with him? I can't recall how many times I have asked myself this. But I don’t allow me to call him, to let him know I want to talk, even though I have no idea as to when I will have the chance again. Instead, here I stand, deep down expecting he will look out of the window and will see me here.  I want him to see me suffering so he pities me and come back. I can't make myself go up there, though. Too proud. So I sit on the sidewalk, not really minding the possibility of being mistaken by a stalker or worse. I sit here and watch his silhouette moving. And I think about the last time I was with him.

 

Work was being a bad bitch. My superior was asking too much and I had too little time. All my routine was messed up, I barely had time to boxing classes, I was eating poorly and the fact that I quit smoking wasn't helping. I was chewing no-sugar gums like crazy and drinking coffee like my life depended on it. Well, my job did.

Besides work, I began to feel like things with Junhoe were moving too fast, which scared me. My therapist always talked about moving on, meeting new people and it used to sound like a distant reality, something I couldn't quite grasp. When I felt like this was happening, that I was carrying on, I felt paralyzed. I felt like I was losing it. Those dreams about Hanbin came night after night and I would usually wake up on a sudden, sweat all over my body, his name on my lips – and Junhoe by my side. After a week of this, he stopped sleeping over. I felt like I was losing him but I didn't know what to do, so I pretended there was nothing wrong. We would go out like before and I would act like there wasn't a sad look on his face.

 Times like these, the person who helped and motivated me was Song Yunhyeong, so I called him. I needed someone to pat my head and tell me I wasn't being a bad guy. I needed Yun to play the big brother, hug me and tell me I was doing okay, that it was all a slow process. I wanted to hear the same things I had been hearing for the past four years.

Yun looked tired. I could almost hear him sighing as I talked about what was happening. He was happy when he got here; he was smiling as we ordered salads full of greens and healthy juices; he had a grin and his usual shining eyes when he asked “how are you? where's Junhoe?”. Then I watched the corners of his mouth turn down in what seemed sadness and tiredness. I pretended there was nothing wrong and I kept talking. Yunhyeong went silent.

After eating, I dragged him to the ajumma’s bar I usually go with Junhoe. I told myself I was there because I liked the place, the fried chicken and the cheap soju. I certainly wasn't there because I missed spending the night with Junhoe. And I wasn't drinking glass after glass because I didn't know what to do about the fact that Hanbin didn't leave my dreams. Why do I have to dream about the same thing over and over? Why dream about meeting him for the first time? I had almost screamed that question to my therapist once and she said “you know”. And I do, actually. But it seems unfair. Feeling guilty is unfair. How do I let go?

Yunhyeong was getting more and more tired. He tried countless times to make me stop drinking but I would always refuse to let go of the alcohol. I was tired of feeling miserable so I wanted to get wasted. I was so lost in thoughts and feelings and Yunhyeong wouldn't stop looking me in disapproval and saying “stop drinking” and

“STOP! You. are. not. my babysitter. You are not!” Yun was there paralyzed and shocked for a few seconds. I could barely understand what was happening and why some people near our table looked at us with surprising and curious eyes. I could barely believe I yelled at Yun because fuck, I never yell at him. He didn't take much longer to recover from his shocked state, though.

“You're right, I am not your babysitter. And you know what? Nor am I a thing you inherited from Hanbin. I hate it when I see you looking at me with those nostalgic eyes. I am right here! What do you miss so much that make you unable to move on? What are you desperately looking for in the past? Everything you need is right in front of you. Yet, you are letting everything slip through your fingers”.

He got up muttering “I'm tired”, ready to leave. He walked past me with no goodbye. I turned to see him leaving and not once he looked back. 

Yunhyeong was the person who helped me stand. All these years I had leaned on him every time I was falling. For the first time I felt like he wasn't by my side and suddenly I realized I never really learned how to walk alone.

I found myself in the bar with tears washing my face and sobs trying to come out. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to be alone. I thought I should look for Junhoe, that he would understand. So I called him and told him I was there and I didn't think I would be able to go home alone. He said “don't worry. Are you okay? I’m coming. Don't leave”. I recall those last words floating around my head as I answered yes and leaned over the window, looking at the lights until my eyes closed without my consent.

“Jiwon? Hey, I’m here. I’m glad you didn't leave”. I heard those words and felt a warm hand on my face, trying to wake me up. I remembered dreaming about Yun and Junhoe and Hanbin so I couldn't really tell who was calling me. Those words left a pleasant feeling in my chest, making me unsure. Who would be able to make me feel like that? “Hanbin?” The voice was different, though. Besides, something felt off. I expected to feel good saying his name out loud, like those syllables held the power to warm me up. It didn't.

“Jiwon, just wake up. The taxi is waiting”.

I opened my eyes to see Junhoe trying to lift me. I recall a voice in the background offering help and Junhoe muttering a shy “no need, thanks”. I remember getting up and walking out of the bar drunk and wasted, putting way too much weight on Junhoe. I entered the car and headed home with no need to stop like some previous times. I know that Junhoe bathed me and put me in bed and I am certain he had a painful look.

I woke up next day to find a piece of paper on the table.

_“We need to be apart so that we can meet again._

_I am going on a business trip._

_Koo Junhoe_ ”.


	11. Chapter 11

Junhoe went to work with the production team for a new movie. He flew to Japan, ready to live his dream: working in one of Takeshi Kitano’s piece. He didn't tell me that much, but anyone who knows him is aware of his passion for Beat Takeshi. What he did tell me, though, was “Going to Japan. Kitano’s movie. 3 months” after some desperate “I am so sorry, I didn't know what I was doing, I am lost” from me. This was a month ago.

I am at the Café eating the same salad I always do, which means the same I ordered those times when Junhoe came here. I already took a pic and sent Yunhyeong. We had a nice talk a while ago; we cried, hugged, cooked together and then laughed like nothing ever happened. Yun is just too sweet to stay mad at anyone. As Junhoe told me once, I should thank him for staying.

I accepted my therapist's recommendation to try doing not only psychoanalysis but also cognitive behavioral therapy to help me get better with car rides. I’ve been doing both for almost a month now and I can see myself slowly overcoming fear. Yesterday I had to ask for a driver and not even once I told him to stop the car for me to go out and take deep breaths. The process is not as slow as it used to be. I am learning to walk by myself, finally.

Also, I decided to go to Jennie’s office two times a week, just for a short period of time. I was feeling too lost, too hopeless. I had established a routine and, although months passed by, it felt like everything changed in the blink of an eye. This past month had been dedicated to my mental and physical health. I went to work on normal hours, took boxing classes regularly and focused on the things I needed to do to get better. And I did. I sleep peacefully and I no longer dream about Hanbin. Every two times a week I talked about him and started to finally let him go.

When Hanbin died, I thought I had to live for both of us. I carried his dreams with me and made music I knew he would have wanted to make. I didn't get attached to other people because I was afraid of losing them and I still couldn't afford moving on. Deep down I thought it was unfair, I felt like a betrayer. However, I learned that walking by myself means living for me only. Sometimes you must let go of the hand you have been holding.

And now I know what it feels like to desperately miss someone who is alive. A hand you let go because you were too afraid and too blind. And it hurts like hell.

 

Another month passed me by with no great incidents. I can't drive cars but I can get a ride when it's necessary without being inconvenient for the driver. I had to do some extra hours but it hasn't been a problem. I am working in a side project with a new artist under YG. His name is Kim Donghyuk and he's one of the few artists nowadays who makes me believe the industry is not rotten. We are working on his upcoming solo album and it has been an amazing ride. It's actually the best thing that happened to me since Junhoe left.

As I began to get better, the urge to talk to Junhoe grew stronger until I finally made contact. I message him asking about what he was doing, if everything was okay. To be honest, I kinda expected a cold reply – and I wouldn't complain. I just needed to hear something from him. To my surprise, we ended up talking for hours. He started telling me exciting details about his work, how much he had improved under pressure and how he felt a more completed professional. Slowly we began to talk about all sorts of random stuff – except our relationship. I knew things weren't like they were before, but talking to him was enough to light up my day.

 

I got back to my usual weekly sessions with Jennie and the cognitive behavioral therapy is going to end next month. The therapist says I may be able to ride a car, though I don't need to push myself too much. To be honest, it's not even like I wish to drive. To sit on the backseat not feeling like throwing up is everything I had asked for. Beside this, because of the therapy I was able to completely quit smoking and never again I am putting a cigarette between my lips. Sometimes the desire strikes me and it feels way too tempting, but I also learned to change the mindset and do anything else until the will goes away. It has been working for almost two months now and it's getting easier.

Junhoe and I chat regularly and he tells me a little too much about the movie, always starting with a “don't tell anyone but”. I got to know he was called to work as the art director, which is a huge role, one that he got after going through a hard audition. He sent me a selfie with Takeshi-san, as he calls him, and is always giving me updates about Japan's food and beers. It almost looks like nothing bad ever happened, like shit never hit the fan, but I feel the unsaid and I know we will have to face it someday.

I updated him about all the therapy and “me-time” I have been getting these past months. If we were face to face I wonder if I would have seen him a little too tense as he asked “so, is everything good now?” knowing he actually may have wanted to say “did the dreams stop? did you quit smoking for good? did you stop getting wasted?”. I told him, yes, that I actually had learned how to walk by myself. And I got the feeling that was a changing moment, that instead of a wall between us there was just an empty space, a road I had to walk down again. And as silly as it may be, I got that feeling because, for the first time in all those months, he sent me one of those cute stickers we like to spend money with.

 

I walk the not so crowded streets, eyes lost in the sky appreciating the moon that shines so brightly. I think about all those conversations with Junhoe and how much I have missed them. Not surprisingly, his words still find their way to my heart. I feel warm just by reading about his daily activities in Japan, his colleagues and how some of them piss him off. I love his ability to turn literally anything into poetry and how those verses mess with me. I still feel the urge to ask if he have ever written about me, if I would be one of the sweet ones.

I realize I am almost at the YG building now, where I need to be in order to finish some work with Donghyuk. He's waiting for me at the studio, probably a little too anxious and looking for possible mistakes in his recorded songs. This puts a smile on my face. I think about the laughs we will share through the night, the awkward dances to keep us awake and the long talks about the meanings behind the songs. He's a good kid.

My phone buzzes, bringing me back to the present. Lazily, I take it out of my pocket, unlocking to see the notification just because I am the curious type.

_Should we go to that Cafe when I get back?_


	12. Epilogue

“So, are you anxious? You seem excited about this new project”.

‘I am anxious because I am sitting in front of you for the first time after that disgraceful scene months ago. I am excited because I got this chance’. I almost consider saying this out loud.

“Well, not as much as that kid. I really liked the job we made. There's this song called SUrF, dude, we composed and produced it in one night! And guess what? It's already going to be released on his new album!”

Junhoe smiles brightly. This is usually enough to make me melt but I can feel his eyes are analyzing me, which makes me tense.

“You look different, you know. The way you talk about work... your eyes shine. I've only seen this when we worked on ONE’s MV. I am glad to see you found someone nice to work by your side. This Donghyuk, he makes you happy”.

I think about all the times I felt happy with Junhoe by my side. I wasn't able to say how much I appreciated his company back then. Maybe my eyes weren’t shining but my heart was always beating a little too fast.

“You make me happy. When I got to work with you, I guess that was the first time I felt that way. Then our lunches, our nights at the bar drinking way too much beer and eating fried chicken”

“Those were really great times-”

“And your words” I cut him, afraid this might be my only chance “I love your words. They make me feel warm. There's sweetness in them but there's also pain and sorrow and it hurts me to imagine you going through hardships. But your words have their own special place in my heart and…”

I stop, looking at his surprised face and wondering what the hell I am doing right now and way too scared he may get up and leave me right there because damn, he doesn't need this right now. I see him opening his mouth, then closing it again as if he's decided it wasn't a good idea. But then he opens it once more and mutters, “And? What else?” My tongue is burning and there are too many thoughts in my head, too many things unsaid.

“And they are special. Your words are special, you are special. And your poems make me see life from a different perspective, make me rethink my life choices. I wonder in what palette of colors you see the world you describe in your poems. I wonder in what colors you see me. I ask myself if any of those words written on that notebook are about me, us – but I am too afraid to know the truth”.

My heart is beating so fast, feels like it's going to blurt out. It's almost painful. We both fall silent and as the seconds go by I worry more and more. What if he never wants to see me again? Did I really have the right to throw all those things at him? What if-

“There are painful and sweet ones about you. Some I wrote when the weight in my chest was almost breathtaking and I didn't know what to do; or when I felt I was with someone who would never be able to open up his heart to me. And I wrote the sweet ones when I felt grateful to have met you, when we shared our intimacy, when we shared lame jokes and Line stickers, when I felt that you were everything I needed. Because life is not black and white, that's why I will go on writing painful and sweet poems about you”.

My heartbeats don’t slow down, though right now this isn't unpleasant. Looking at him, I realize there’s only one thing left unsaid. His eyes are bright, reassuring and he is smiling kindly, affectionately. The words still haven’t found a way out of my mouth, but he knows. He always knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to those who managed to read until the end, my most sincere thank you. this was really difficult to write and, although it's not a masterpiece, it's something i am happy i was able to create. i wish one day i will give this nation a great story - until then, hope this is enough to feed you guys.
> 
> hopefully,  
> see you again in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Thaina and Nad for being crazy junbob shippers and for supporting me.
> 
> I'm sorry for any typos and poor vocabulary. I'm not an English native speaker so writing is quite hard hah but I swear I'm giving my best!  
> Oh, btw, the title and the summary are from Epik High x Sekai no Owari song Sleeping Beauty.


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